Squaw Peak 50 miler

Now that I'm just learning how to blog I decided I would try to post some info on my latest ultramarathon. Even though I ran it nearly two weeks ago, it's still quite fresh in my mind. My running friend from work, Mike, and I have recently transitioned away from road marathons to trail ultramarathons. Trail ultramarathons have more variety and are easier on the joints. In some ways they're harder than marathons because they take longer and have more uphill/downhill. In some ways they're easier because you get to walk more and can actually take time to eat food at the aid stations.

Anyway, the Squaw Peak 50 is considered one of the toughest three 50 milers in the country. A few weeks ago, Mike and I found out why. The course has an overall elevation gain of 14,000 vertical feet through some pretty diverse and challenging terrain including single track trail, jeep road, paved road, snow, and most discouraging of all, the darn thing is 50 miles long!

The race started at 5:00 AM at Vivian Park up Provo Canyon. This involved me getting up at 2:45 AM. I don't think I actually fell asleep that night. I drove down to Southtowne Mall where I met Mike and we drove to Provo Canyon together. After a final pitstop at the Orem 7-11, we arrived at the starting line about 4:15. It was starting to rain a little bit. By race time the light rain became a drizzle. That was OK if you like running in the rain in the dark. I stayed close to Mike because he was wearing a headlamp. The race proceeded down Provo Canyon past Bridal Veil Falls (it's not as scenic in the dark). Then it veered off of the paved trail up the mountain.

This is where the going got tough. Imagine running up a narrow trial of wet, brown frosting, surrounded by trees, with someone directly in front of you and someone directly behind you. Take two steps forward, slide one step back. This made for very slow progress.

Ahhh, finally the first aid station at mile 5.5. By tradition, a local scout troop mans this aid station and cooks pancakes for the runners passing through. We're not talking pull up a chair, sit down, slap some butter on and pour syrup on you pancakes. Rather, the Scoutmaster hands you a pancake off the spatula, you eat it by hand, take a gulp of Gatorade and you're on your way.

The race proceeded uphill toward Squaw Peak. As we reached the point that overlooked Utah Valley, we noticed the rain became white and fluffy. Yep, it started snowing. (Remember it's June 7). The higher we got the harder it snowed and the colder my hands became. I was fortunate enough to be wearing some thin liner gloves along with a thin windbreaker. Several people weren't that prepared and started suffering from hypothermia and began to drop out of the race. Most of the course at this point was along a dirt road so at least they could get a ride down. One guy jumped in a car at the side of the road for an hour to warm up and try to overcome the shivers. The snow was beginning to stick to the road. The next aid station (mile 10.8) involved eating as much food as possible (cookies, pretzels, etc.) and trying to stay warm. Despite the cold and wet, you still have to stay hydrated It's difficult with wet, frozen hands to open your water bottle. I had some doubts as to whether we'd finish.

We proceeded up the trail in about 2 inches of snow. At least the snow wasn't as slippery as the wet mud from earlier on. We finally reached sort of a summit that provided a beautiful view of Utah Lake shrouded in clouds and a distinct line below us that separated white from green. The snow was finally dissipating and we realized we would be able to continue. Mike and I spent a little more time at aid Station four (Mile 14.6) taking a brief "bio break" and eating more food. (One thing you learn when running marathons and ultra's, is you can pretty much throw common bathroom etiquette out the window. That goes for males and females. You wouldn't believe some of the things I've seen.) At this station I actually had a drop bag here with some chocolate chip cookies. My hands were so cold I had an aid station worker open my water bottle to refill it.

Next we proceeded down a road southward. In the distance you could see the windmills at the mouth of Spanish Fork Canyon. We were back on a rocky jeep trail and made up some time because it was downhill. (The strategy was to run the down hills and flats and power walk the uphills.) Somewhere along this road, Mike turned his ankle on a rock, uttered a few choice words, and we came to a complete stop. He actually heard a pop. Mike was uncertain if he could continue. He was able to slowly walk and was able to start running again as long as his injured foot landed flat on the ground. (Spoiler alert: When he went to his Sports Med Doc on Monday he found out he had torn some ligaments in his ankle. So now you know he finished the race.) He also encountered some cramping at this time but worked through it.

The course took us down towards Hobble Creek Canyon which was out of the snow. Aid station 5 (20.9) was a welcome site where we refueled and applied vaseline to some strategic locationsI also changed my socks and filled my water bottles. At this point we actually proceeded (walk/run) up the Hobble Creek Canyon Road (paved) for a few miles before hitting the next Aid Station (Mile 26). It's nice knowing we were more than half way. But we still had a cut-off time to be aware of. Runners had to reach the 33 mile mark by 2:30 PM or you were pulled off of the course. Beyond that point you encountered the more difficult, mountainous part of the course and the race officials wanted to ensure you had time to get through that part of the race and finish before dark.

So we proceeded up a canyon. The sun actually began shining at this point. The conditions now were ideal as it was partly cloudy and still very cool. From Aid Station 7 (Mile 29.9) onward, the course took a decidedly uphill approach. That was the bad news. The goods news; uphill means more walking. This portion took us through some lush green meadows on a single track trail. Mike still had to be careful with his ankle and occassionally landed wrong resulting in a few choice words.

At last we reached Aid Station 8 (Mile 33) with nearly an hour to spare before the cut-off time. As runners enter each aid station you announce your bib number and they record when you enter and when you leave the aid station. The had ham radio operators at each station that were supposedly relaying all this info to a web operator so your loyal supporters could track your progress on the internet. (Kathy later informed me this was untrue.) This was a very busy aid station with a lot of drop bags. I refueled (bananas, cookies, pretzels, salt tablets, Coca-cola to settle my stomach) and changed both socks and shoes. My old shoes were of course very wet and muddy.

So we continued up the trail past the point of no return. This was a long 7 miles before the next aid station. This stretch included a killer climb up a steep snow hill about 200 yards long. The idea was to step in footholds created by previous runners (climbers). This involved going about 20 steps, resting, setting your sight on another landmark 30 feet up the hill, before your next rest. I managed to stay ahead of Mike on this portion since I'm stronger going uphill and he's stronger going downhill. When I finally summitted the 9300 foot mountain, I sat down and nursed my blistered feet and chewed on a cookie to regain some energy. At this point it was all about making it from one aid station to the next. It was also important to refuel between aid stations with gels, gatorade, salt tablets, and any food you could carry. You had to refuel judiciously in order to avoid that light headed, no energy feeling, at this point in the race. Some people call this bonking. (Non-runners are a little bit uncomfortable with this term.)

Mike caught up with me at the summit and it was just a short jaunt down to aid station 9 (mile 40.4). This particular station was a little bit cheerier because you knew the rest of the course was downhill. The station consisted of a tent, a warm fire, and a table of food under an awning with extra food chilling in a nearby snowbank. We ran into one of the runners who had suffered hypothermia earlier in the morning (remember the guy who warmed up in the car). There he was sitting in front of the fire wrapped in a thermal blanket. He still wasn't sure if he could make

it down the mountain by himself. Fortunately there were some Search and Rescue folks coming up the other side to help him down.

We left the aid station, not too worried about our finish time, but just happy that we WOULD finish. I was able to get a cell phone signal on the summit and apprised Kathy of our progress. She, Marissa, and Kyler were on their way down to Vivian Park to cheer us across the finish line. This last downhill section took us across a few snowfields that covered the trail. On one snowfield, they even set up a rope to hold onto to reduce your chance of sliding down the mountain. We eventually got low enough to be entirely out of the snow and made our way to Aid Station 10, the final aid station (Mile 46.3). It actually seemed somewhat like civilization. We only stayed here long enough to grab a piece of pizza and eat it on the run. (Yes, we could still barely run). The last 3.7 miles were down the paved road towards Vivian Park.

Our original goal was 13.5 hours. The mud and snow put an abrupt end to that goal. Now we wanted to finish in less than 15 hours. In order to do so, we had to run about 9 minute miles the rest of the way. I realized that if I stopped running and started walking, my body would not allow me to resume running again. (Mind over matter) So I told Mike I was just going to keep running to the end. We passed several people that were just sort of hobbling to the finish. That last few miles followed the beginning of the Provo River 1/2 Marathon we'd run a few years earlier. Those 3.7 miles seemed like an entire 1/2 Marathon this time around.

At this point I was oblivious to cars running up the road. I almost dared them to hit me as I ran down the center of the road. Finally the finish line came into view. Kathy, Marissa and Kyler cheered us on as we crossed the finish line in 14 hrs 56 minutes 20 seconds. It was nearly 8:00 PM. What a great feeling when they hung a finisher's medal around our necks, knowing what we were able to accomplish, despite the adversity and harsh conditions. Mike gutted through an ankle injury and other than some blisters, I actually felt pretty good, even my knees. Despite feeling quite good, I was more than happy to let Kathy drive me to Southtowne Mall!